


and i didn't even realize

by Meggels



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Pedophilia, Realizations, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meggels/pseuds/Meggels
Summary: She was 16 when she realized how wrong it was.TW- pedophilia
Kudos: 8





	and i didn't even realize

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I was away for a while. I have to admit I’m the stereotypical suicidal teenager. It’s not that I stopped writing or got bored of the fandom but rather that i was away at a treatment center for 2 months and didn’t have access to any technology. Anyway, when I was away I made some realizations about things that have happened to me and I was told that writing a story about it may help me get over it a little bit more so I hope you all enjoy it. :)

She was 16 when she realized how wrong it was. She hadn’t thought about it for years. She didn’t think about it much but as she sat there, staring a hole into the quilt her grandmother had sewn for her 6th birthday, the mellow pink patches enduring the torture of her harsh gaze, she understood that it had been wrong. 

The sun came through the slit between the curtains which swayed slightly with the slight breeze coming through the small crack in the window and glinted across her raven black hair. She ran her fingers through it. It was soft against the pads of her fingers and silky from the mountain of conditioner she’d used. 

Evie Monroe moved her gaze and stared at the window. Not through it, but rather at it. At the way the glass warped the light which came through to her room and how the paint on the sill just came onto the glass at the very bottom. 

_ “Come on little darling, let me see.” His breath smelled of whiskey and cigars and it reminded her of her father and the way he would stumble home at night when he thought she was asleep.  _

She remembered. She remembered every little horrific detail. The brand new dress she had worn, pink and white stripes with a little bow around the waist. The way the tag by her hip had itched at her. The relief she felt when she pulled the dress over her head, away from that annoying tag, drawing it up her body. The way his eyes had roved over her. Up and down. He let his eyes wander from her flat chest to straight waist which had yet to form any curves. 

She let her focus change, like a camera focusing in on something far away her gaze went beyond the window to the tree which stood still just outside. She could only see a few branches but they were bright and green and vibrant with the summer sun. She could barely see it through the slotted shades which hung from her windows but, even through the small cracks, she could see the moving stillness of the leaves. She felt akin to them at that moment. At first glance they were perfectly still but, like each slight breath and opening of her chest for more air, the branches swung ever so slightly. And it gave her hope. 

Then he got out the camera. The flash was bright, it blinded her. It made her nose scrunch in the way it always did when there was a flash. It made her skin look white in the photos. Not a pale yellowish pink-- white. Pure as freshly downed snow. What made snow pure? Why wasn't the rain pure? Or fire? Why are the other elements inherently more dirty than others? She wasn’t quite sure. She wasn’t sure about a lot of things. 

She wasn’t sure what she did to deserve this. This feeling which creeps up every time a boy touches her hand, and they do that a lot. They think they’re subtle. When they tilt their head to the side and stick out their chins and give her that look of ‘oh god I can’t wait to have you sucking my dick like the slut I can tell you are’. They assume that. Every time. 

None of them would have guessed that she’d only ever slept with one person. None of them would guess the horror that it was to her. The pain that she’d felt as his hands had run up the curve of her waist. The way that Father Raymonds face flashed before her eyes as his lips pressed to hers and his tongue slipped into her mouth. And none of them would ever believe that she had run out halfway through to go vomit in the bushes outside his house. But she had been only 14 when that had happened and life had moved on. She hadn’t, though. 

Her body was pale. So pale, in fact, that most doctors presumed she was sickly when they first saw her, but she hadn’t seen a doctor in 2 years. They were expensive. It was either pay the electric or go to get her ‘yearly’ physical. The electric always wins. People always commented on it. Her mother used to call her snow-white. Her mother was tan, they’re pretty sure she’s a small part Puerto Rican. Her father was Irish and she inherited his pale complexion which burned under the weakest of rays. 

Her father trusted Father Raymond. She remembers the way her father had grabbed his forearm, the last Sunday before he left, and whispered to him, just loud enough for her to hear.  _ ‘Take care of her for me, John, take care of my little girl.’  _

_ Oh, he took care of me,  _ she scoffed, a smirk forming on her lips,  _ he made sure of that. _

She had trouble forgiving herself for what happened. It felt like her fault. Somehow, she wasn’t quite sure, it was her fault that somewhere Father fucking Raymond had pictures of her hidden in his house. She was working on it though, she was trying really hard to move on. It was easier now. She was trying to accept it. Accept that she couldn’t change it. She took a deep breath. She was ready to move on. 

~

Forgiveness is giving up hope for a better past- Lily Tomlin


End file.
